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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27356209">Brink of Death</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBretonBookDragon/pseuds/TheBretonBookDragon'>TheBretonBookDragon</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Adventures of Almithara and Ondolemar [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Caring Spouse, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Sick Character</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 11:40:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,617</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27356209</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBretonBookDragon/pseuds/TheBretonBookDragon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>He's dying. He's absolutely sure of it.</p>
<p>A humorous one-shot set after the ending of A Broken Promise Means War.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Ondolemar</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Adventures of Almithara and Ondolemar [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1842877</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Brink of Death</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>A/N Disclaimer: I do not own Skyrim.</p>
<p>Hello, everyone! Here's another one-shot within my little Skyrim universe. This occurs after A Broken Promise Means War.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He's dying. He's absolutely sure of it.</p>
<p>Never again will he see the sun rising in the morning or setting in the evening. Never again will he know the feeling of walking through town on a sunny day, holding his children's hands and lazily gazing at the surrounding landscape. Never again will he sit on the shore of the lake for a picnic with his wife.</p>
<p>His wife. His beautiful wife. If he would've known that he would never see her again, he would've memorized her face one last time. Just stared down at her under him or next to him or across the room. Savored her features. Ran his hands through her ebony hair and locked his forest eyes with her golden ones. Made sure that she memorized his face one final occasion, so she can have the memory of him to keep close to her always. If he thinks hard, he swears he can still feel her skin against his, even in his weakened state.</p>
<p>He then thinks of his children. The older ones accepted him as their father immediately upon his marriage to their mother. They looked to him for guidance and protection, regardless of their age, and now he has to let them down. He won't be around to keep his promises.</p>
<p>The twins will surely miss him, and he will miss them. Miss them growing up and finding their place in the world. Miss their marriages and the families they will build. Miss seeing miniatures of himself every day.</p>
<p>Allannia will have no memory of him. She's only one-and-a-half; she'll never remember him. At least his wife has a painting of him to show her when she grows up. He finally got the calm child that he wished for, and he won't be able to see her grow up.</p>
<p>This is the end for him. The end of happiness. The end of his long life.</p>
<p>He should've gone with his wife on the last trip she took. She took the twins with her to go up to visit the College of Winterhold, and he stayed behind with Allannia. He wanted to spend some quiet time with her. Bonding with the baby. But it would have been a family trip. A nice memory for them all to have after he's gone.</p>
<p>He isn't sure how much time he has left, but it mustn't be much. He can feel the life slipping out of his body, faster than he wishes but slower than will relieve the aching pain of death.</p>
<p>This is it. This is—</p>
<p>"I brought you some chicken broth," his wife declares brightly, carrying a small tray with a steaming bowl atop. She sets it down on the side table and sinks onto the bed, carefully placing her hand on his forehead. "You're burning up."</p>
<p>"I shall surely expire soon," he croaks, ending the sentence with a breathless cough.</p>
<p>She gives him a measuring look and tries to prevent the smirk from forming on her perfect mouth. "I'm sure you'll be just fine."</p>
<p>"Tell the children I love them."</p>
<p>She actually bursts out laughing at that remark, and he scowls. How dare she interrupt his last words with mocking laughter? "Are you quite finished?" he asks with a glare from his slit eyes.</p>
<p>"I'm sorry," she says, biting her lip to keep more laughter from escaping but unable to keep the broad smile from her face. "Please continue."</p>
<p>"Tell them that I love them. And that I'm sorry I won't be there for them." He pauses here to cough some more, and Almithara reaches over to the water basin on the nightstand to grab a cloth and soak it in the cool liquid. She brings it up to his face and wipes off the light sheen of sweat. His usually golden skin is flushed on his cheeks and nose and slightly pale on the rest of it. "And I'm sorry I won't be here to finish out our lives together, Almithara."</p>
<p>She just rolls her eyes. "You're awfully dramatic, you know. It's just a flu."</p>
<p>"It is surely worse than that," he argues, trying in vain to stretch and maneuver his body in a way that will not cause horrendous pain. His muscles ache worse than he's ever felt in his life.</p>
<p>"It's really not."</p>
<p>"The traditional disease cures were of no help," he points out.</p>
<p>"Sofie is already looking into something to help you, but you'll probably just have to wait it out," she notes, this time with some sympathy. "I know it feels terrible, but I promise you'll get better."</p>
<p>"How can you be so sure?"</p>
<p>"Because I can't go on without you," she replies simply.</p>
<p>His cheeks color, this time from embarrassment rather than sickness. "You would be fine eventually."</p>
<p>"I would certainly not be." When all the sweat is wiped from his face, she resoaks the cloth and lays it across his forehead. "I'm absolutely certain I would die of a broken heart within two weeks. So, you have to get better, or I'll follow you."</p>
<p>"You wouldn't dare."</p>
<p>"I would. So, what are you going to do?"</p>
<p>"Get better," he grumbles. She smirks triumphantly. "This is horrible blackmail to perform on a dying person."</p>
<p>She rolls her eyes again. "Ondolemar, you're going to be fine. Alesan came down with this last week. The night that he had dinner with us. You caught it from him, and he's perfectly fine now. It just took a few days to get better."</p>
<p>"It must be something different. I have been sick for an age," he laments, his eyes slightly unfocused with the fever.</p>
<p>"You've been sick for eighteen hours."</p>
<p>Ondolemar's eyes widen. It can't possibly be that short of time that he's been wasting away in torment. "Are you sure?"</p>
<p>"Positive," his wife replies. "Now, sit up a bit. I need to feed you dinner."</p>
<p>"I'm a grown man. I can feed myself," he growls.</p>
<p>"You thought you were dying five minutes ago. I'll feed you." He grumbles more under his breath. "And I thought you couldn't get any grumpier," she chides, helping him sit up and arranging pillows behind his back.</p>
<p>"This is abuse," he whines weakly, sinking back as soon as the pillows are rearranged for optimum eating. The sheer effort of moving even a few inches has rendered him exhausted and unable to fight back against her insult of his mood.</p>
<p>"It's really not," Almithara denies, laughing under her breath. "I'm just pointing out facts, my dear husband. You are much grumpier than usual. And I hardly think taking care of you while you're sick counts as abuse."</p>
<p>"Thank you," he says after a beat of silence.</p>
<p>"You don't have to thank me," she croons, laying a hand on his hot cheek. "I will always take care of you when you're sick. No matter how grumpy you get."</p>
<p>He swallows uncomfortably—not just because his throat is swollen and scratchy and burning. "I think I could eat something," he murmurs contritely.</p>
<p>"Well good," she cheers, her voice bright once more. She picks up the bowl from the side table and grabs the spoon. After ensuring that the broth isn't too hot, she begins the task of feeding it to him. Ondolemar is grateful for the warm, soothing liquid on his sore throat. When he's finished, she helps him drink some water and then tucks him back into bed. "Where are the children?" he manages to ask, his body getting heavier with the need to sleep.</p>
<p>"I didn't want them to get sick too, so I sent them away. Inigo and Shunara have them at Lakeview. I think Hroar and Samuel were taking the twins fishing and maybe hunting. Allannia just wanted to stay by Shunara's side, so there shouldn't be any trouble there. Not that she would cause any. She's too much like you. Very serious," Almithara says with a fond smile down at her husband.</p>
<p>"Will you be all right? I do not wish my fate upon you."</p>
<p>"I'll be fine. Dragonborn blood and all that. And even if I do catch it, you'll take care of me, right?"</p>
<p>"As long as I do not die first," he promises despondently.</p>
<p>"You'll live. We had a deal, remember?"</p>
<p>"Yes," he agrees, too tired to argue the likelihood of his imminent death any longer.</p>
<p>She pulls the blanket up and over his chest and places a kiss on his forehead. "Go to sleep. I'll be back soon to watch you and make sure you don't die prematurely." Almithara bounds out of the room with the tray and empty bowl, leaving Ondolemar to gaze tiredly after her.</p>
<p>He'll make it through this. For her, he'll fight the sickness coursing through his body. It's the last conscious thought he has before his mind shuts down.</p>
<p>When she comes back up the stairs and into the room, she finds him fast asleep, his breathing labored and his face flushed from the fever.</p>
<p>She'd never tell him, but she is worried—although he's still being rather dramatic about the whole thing. Alesan made it through, but Ondolemar is much older.</p>
<p>Still, he has to make it through. He just has to. She doesn't know what she'd do without him.</p>
<p>Almithara sinks down into the chair beside the bed with a book on her lap and settles in to watch him for the rest of the evening. If anything happens to him, it won't be because she didn't try hard enough to keep him with her.</p>
<p>Four days later, he's completely better…</p>
<p>…and able to return the favor when she's on the brink of death instead, though with decidedly less dramatic speeches involved.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A bit of background on this...I am generally a very sickly person and get sick very often, and my husband does not. When he does get sick, it's basically the end of the world for him. He can be really dramatic about it, and it can be quite hilarious, even though I do end up worrying for him. I feel like Ondolemar would be similar in that regard. I know being sick isn't fun, but I thought it could make a little light-hearted, humorous story to tell.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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